


Some Years, There Are Apples

by FeoplePeel



Category: Firefly
Genre: Drug Use, Dubious Consent, M/M, Medical Procedures, Power Dynamics, Whumptober 2019, Wilderness Survival
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29926524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeoplePeel/pseuds/FeoplePeel
Summary: Scouting for an outpost location on a terraformed and uninhabited world, Jayne and Simon make due with what medicine they have, and one another.[Originally written for Whumptober 2019 featuring the prompts: Explosion, Dragged Away, Isolation,“Don’t Move”, and Embrace]
Relationships: Jayne Cobb/Simon Tam
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	Some Years, There Are Apples

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a doctor. This is not proper medical care by current or futuristic practices. However, according to my lovely friend, Bal, in case you end up stranded in the wild for days for some reason and start wondering about eating random plants:  
> 1) Avoid plants with strong bad smell  
> 2) Test the plant against your skin, holding it for several minutes. If no reaction, continue  
> 3) Place plant against lips, wait 15 minutes. If no reaction, continue  
> 4) Chew plant for 15 minutes, if no reaction, and if the plant doesn't taste super bitter, continue  
> 5) Swallow the bite you chewed, wait a few hours. if no reaction, it's probably fine

Some springs, apples bloom too soon.  
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick  
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,  
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty  
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.

Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples  
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,  
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.

You could say, _I have been foolish_. You could say, _I have been fooled_.  
You could say, _Some years, there are apples_.  
-Gather by Rose McLarney

When Jayne was sixteen he got a very nice pair of boots from his brother; real leather, not some piányí de fèihuà that’d fall apart soon as he stepped foot off Calchas.

He’d lost them, of course, sometime between home and Caliban when Mal and Zoe’d taken him on, and he’d never been able to afford boots that nice since. Never really thought about them, if he were honest with himself. Following Simon now, with his obviously once shiny boots kicking up soil and dipping into ankle deep water, they came to his mind.

He could use some better boots right now.

Gallus was one of those jungle planets--untamed with small rivers all across its muggy surface--Jayne avoided them on principle. That principle being no profit and a discomfort that couldn’t be measured. Now, though...

“River said no signs of human life, breathable atmosphere.” Simon passed him, on his left, using Jayne’s elbow as leverage to climb one of the bigger boulders in front of them. “This could be the outpost Mal’s been looking for.”

Jayne held out both hands, watching the way Simon wobbled in front of him slightly before settling into a steady pace again. He’d gotten more accustomed to their way of life, Jayne would grant that, but an explorer he was not. The last thing he needed to carry back to Mal, or the insane sister floating some great height above them, was one dead doctor.

“Bout time something made the man unclench.”

“I don’t think that’s likely,” Simon said under his breath. “Still he’ll be pleased, I think, once the platoon has a place to set down. Maybe stop taking that anger out on us.”

Jayne pulled down a thick piece of foliage with a rough tug. “Half of what we’ve seen is jungle, Doc. Weren’t a soldier, but I can tell you it don’t make for good fighting.”

“They don’t need to fight. They just need to hide.”

“I meant for when they get found.”

“And River says I’m cynical,” Simon smacked the side of his neck, pulling his hand away to examine the small insect that’d been nibbling there. “Speaking of...River? You still have eyes on us?”

River’s disembodied voice crackled to life by Jayne’s hip. “You’re like little bugs.”

 _Creepy,_ Jayne stared at Simon’s hand, eyebrow raised. For his part, Simon ignored the too accurate description, kneeling to open one of his small collection kits and wiping his hand off inside.

“I haven’t found any vegetation actively trying to murder us,” Simon closed up his kit. It was a valid concern, Jayne reckoned, smiling at the memory of Zoe making her way back to Serenity from their latest planetary exploration--pissed off and wild eyed--only to grab as many grenades as she could carry back with her into the beautiful, deadly forest. “Any more readings on the wildlife?”

“I’ve made my orbit. More heat signatures on the other side.” 

Simon stared at the leaves above his head. Jayne took a step forward, into the stream. “Are you saying when night falls we’re going to see greater activity?”

“More than insects.”

“Hell, I could have told you that.” Jayne crossed his arms, toes tingling as the water rushed into and out of a small hole near the heel of his right boot.

“There’s a ravine two klicks East,” River said, after a moment of them staring in opposite directions; Simon at the sky and Jayne at his feet. “Could be some caves. No heat signatures detected.”

Simon looked over his shoulder at Jayne, like he’d ever listened to him once in their short acquaintanceship. Beneath the rush of superiority, Jayne felt a familiar, if long-disguised panic. Ravine with _caves_ , he wanted to ask. As soon as he’d heard mention of nightfall and bigger critters he was ready to break atmo on this place. But with Mister Spiffy standing on a little rock three feet above him looking all expectant-like, he couldn’t help himself.

“Yeah, all right,” he grunted into his comm. “Send us the readout.” 

* * *

The ravine would have been impossible to miss even without River’s direction. It seemed to split their patch of land in half, arched trees cresting up its sides like great green waves. It was a careful climb to the bottom, down jagged grey rock to dusty red sand that clung to their wet clothes. The air was crisp down here, cooler for its altitude and shade.

“Nice place to pin someone down in a fight,” Simon remarked, and Jayne snorted. Simon dug his fingers into a small white bush covered in berries. “It’s practically a different _ecosystem_.”

Jayne ran his hand along the rock wall. Holes they’d used to lower themselves suddenly more sinister on solid ground. “Hey Doc?” Simon made his way to him, berries safely ensconced in his kit. “These are fresh.”

“Weapons?”

“No ammo I seen.”

Simon made a considering noise in the back of his throat, pressed a thumb to the comms at his hip. “River, can you check your readings again, now that we’re closer?”

Jayne examined the tree next to him, drawing back at the bright green fruit between his eyes. A different ecosystem, Simon had said. Apples by his ear and fever berries at his feet...Jayne felt like he was in a different _universe_.

“River?” Jayne narrowed his eyes at Simon, whose own gaze was focused on his comms. “ _Serenity?_ ” Simon looked at Jayne, shaking his head, obviously at a loss.

Jayne flicked his channel with a crackle of static. “Cap’n? We lost communication with _Serenity._ You got ears?”

Silence.

Later, Jayne would say he could feel the wind change before the first drops fell. But, being so wrapped up in their current issue as he was, it took a fat droplet of rainwater on his eyelash for him to steer Simon by the shoulder, away from the fresh vegetation and further into the ravine.

“Rain’s comin’,” he said. “Let’s find that cave.”

“But--”

“You wanna try scalin’’ up a wet rock?”

Simon’s eyes tracked the expanse of the ravine wall, grey rock becoming black under the slow downpour, tempered by foliage. “Not particularly.”

“I reckon all we have is a black out situation,” Jayne slowed his pace, enjoying the slick feel of rain down his back that would normally be unbearable. The russet red sand beneath his feet caught the water too, darkening and reminding him, uncomfortably, of blood. “All we gotta do is wait til this tapers off--”

Jayne stopped talking and he stopped walking; or he thought he’d stopped walking. His brain thought: _You’ve stopped._

Which slowly became: _Why have you stopped?_

And very quickly answered: _You’re in pain. Something bad has happened to you._

Jayne’d been shot before. He could still count the number of times only on one hand, at least. When he landed on the ground, arm twisted in such a way that he knew he’d broken it, his ears filled with a familiar ringing sound, he thought, _Gorrammit I’ve been shot again. Who shot me?_

But his side was aching, like it was split in half, like no gunshot had ever torn into him.

 _Hell, this one might get me._ He laughed, feeling something bubble up in his throat--blood, he realized--if it were the Doc what shot him...whew, what a surprise that would be.

But Simon was hunched over him now, hands wedged into his armpits and tugging hard, shouting something Jayne couldn’t make out above the incessant ringing. Jayne tilted his head forward, vision blurry from the pain, to see rocks; blood red and exploding outward from the sand like tiny, violent fragment bombs.

 _Rocks,_ he thought dispassionately. _Blown apart by gorram minerals._

“Why is every planet trying to kill us?” Jayne groaned. Or tried to groan. What came out, in actuality, Jayne wasn’t sure.

Jayne saw the shadow of an overhang, his shirt riding up to his stomach, dirt scraping his lower back.

“This is good enough.” Simon was talking to himself, low murmurs like his sister. Jayne was fine with that. He didn’t feel up to conversation at the moment.

In fact...he might just pass out now.

* * *

The rain had stopped by the time he woke again. Simon was still over him, expression the picture of concentration.

“How long was I out, Doc?”

“Not more than an hour, but you’ve been awake off and on.” Simon barely reacted, gloved fingers working around a bandage at his side. His lips felt numb and tingly, and he ran his swollen tongue over his teeth. “You’re not bleeding anymore, but I’ve used the last of our antifibrinolytics.” Jayne blinked at him. “For clotting.”

“Don’t get hurt, I hear ya.”

“We need to reset your arm, now that you’re awake.” He moved further up Jayne’s shoulder, hands braced against his bicep and behind his shoulder blade. Jayne could feel Simon’s hands for the first time, surprisingly cold. "Dont mo--"

"Gorram it," Jayne was feeling much more awake now. He cut himself off with a scramble and a shout as Simon pressed hard on his shoulder, though not hard enough to sound a snap. Jayne spit at the red clay near his feet, pushing Simon away on instinct.

"I said _don’t_ move." Simon pulled Jayne’s hair in an act of desperation more likely to get him punched. “The explosions stopped as soon as the rain did. Water must activate them.”

Jayne sobered up quickly, staring at the small puddle of his own saliva, waiting for it to expand outward and blow off his foot. It bubbled back at him innocently enough, dirty and darkening.

Simon helped Jayne peel off his jacket, one shoulder catching and lighting with pain.

"How is it, Doc?"

"You're not dying, Jayne. I just need you to be still. Unless you want to do some permanent nerve damage." His brow furrowed, intensely focused on the angle of Jayne’s arm. Honestly, now that Jayne could see it with his jacket off, he’d seen worse.

“What?”

“If Mal or Zoe were here, this would be simple,” Simon positioned his hands again, frustrated. “ _River_ would be able to pop this back into place without any issue whatsoever.”

“Well they’re not here, so figure it out.” Jayne thought about River in Simon’s place, all the grace of a caged bird with the care of a _gunshot_.

Simon made a considering noise, staring at the rocks around them with sudden clarity. “River would…”

Jayne glanced over his good shoulder to see Simon, bracing himself against the rockface behind him for leverage, and the pressure on Jayne’s shoulder this time was decidedly different than before. He had only a second to suck in a sharp breath, understanding coming to him before the hard, sharp pop of his bone resetting and his own loud cry.

"How are you feeling?"

Jayne growled, pulling Simon down by his too-neat collar with his good arm, bothered and grounded by the doctor's calm countenance.

"Answer the question," Simon wrapped his fingers around Jayne's own, challenging. He wasn't as good at it as Mal, but he'd clearly been paying attention.

"Side aches, head aches, arm," at this, Jayne threw as much sarcasm in his tone as he could muster, "hurts a mite."

"Which hurts the most?" Simon asked and, when Jayne pressed his lips together Simon finally showed a flicker of irritation. "If I had to give you something for the pain, would you like me to focus on your side, your head, or your arm?"

Jayne considered this. "Arm’s gonna go away soon. Feel it all in my head...but you’re the doctor.” The last he tacked on with a bit of reluctance but he knew how a gut wound could sneak up on a man. Just because it don’t hurt…

“I understand,” Simon nodded, handing Jayne back his jacket and turning away. Jayne was grateful for the privacy as he struggled to pull it across his back. When Simon came back to him it was with an armful of paltry branches and some torn fabric. “This is _barely_ going to be a sling so you’re going to have to work not to move your arm.”

Jayne allowed him to work the items around his arm, biting his lip to keep his hissing to a minimum. 

“I've been cataloguing the local vegetation for medicinal purposes but a lot of this is new to me,” Simon said, likely as a distraction. “And untested.” There was a significant weight to the last word.

“Consider me a happy test subject if it means taking some of this pain away. ‘Sides I'm not moving like this.”

Simon stared at him, fists clenched at his side, looking as angry and determined as the first day they'd brought him on board. "I'll be back," he said, and turned to the mouth of the cave without another word.

Jayne dozed, waking once to try and wrap his jacket more firmly around his broken arm, and cursing himself for forgetting the sling. Simon would be angry, his face was going to be hilarious, he thought, before he slipped back into the fitful sleep of the wounded.

* * *

Jayne opened his eyes to find Simon fixing his sling. He wasn't angry, as Jayne had hoped, but the expression of concentration was something, at least. Eventually the doctor noticed he was being watched, and the tip of his tongue, which had wriggled its way out to rest on his lower canines, disappeared into his mouth.

"I went back for our gear," Simon finished the sling with a sharp tug, and motioned to a corner of the cave with the items in question. "We need to go back the way we came, try to contact River again. We were getting a signal there."

"May be a chance we're not getting a signal." Jayne could feel the grit under his shirt dig in as he shifted farther up the wall of the cave.

Simon picked up the comm device with mild trepidation. "I'm...not sure what to do if the problem's on our side."

"Worry about it after it becomes a problem, Doc," Jayne jerked his chin at him. "You find anything useful in those bushes?"

Simon startled to attention, shoulders relaxing into the well-worn calm posture Jayne had often seen envelop him in his clinic. The sterile environment left everyone else wrong-footed and snappish, but Simon thrived in it. He didn't know what sort of training the doctor was pulling from to bring the sense memory of a hospital to a wild place like this. 

“Here,” Simon pulled his handkerchief apart, corner by corner, to reveal bright, orange berries. Jayne’s dry tongue pulled in on itself. “I don’t know a lot but I remember berries being fairly safe.”

“Not those.” Jayne re-wrapped the handkerchief and pushed it away. "Orange is bad, Doc." 

Simon's brow furrowed. He lifted it to his nose to smell.

"Big leaves, right? Brown with a big white spot?" Simon nodded a little dumbly. "My aunt used 'em for cramps, back on Calchas. But the berries? Stay away." Simon stared at his hand. "Look, all planets are terraformed pretty much the same way, save a moon or two. Prior to that you’ve got to learn a few rules."

“Orange is bad.” Simon repeated dutifully, tossing the berries over his shoulder and shaking out his handkerchief. "We probably could have used you on Trividant."

Jayne remembered the results of that exploration too; poor Kaylee puking her guts out for near on a week, ship sitting idle without its mechanic to tend to her. "Not my idea of fun."

"It wasn't fun for _anyone_ , Jayne." Simon picked at the corner of his shirt, making a sympathetic hissing noise. Jayne could only imagine long chunks of flesh torn out by the cave wall, but it was just was likely little scrapes with bits of dirt inside--irritating but painful. Simon laid a soothing cloth covered in cool oil across his lower back. "They offered a course in herbalism at school. I'm thinking now it's one I should have taken."

"What's someone on the Core need herbs for?" Jayne snorted, back teeth grinding together.

Simon considered this. "Well, to take care of people on the Rim planets."

Jayne shot him a look that he hoped conveyed all the thoughts he had on Core folk taking care of the Rim. 

Part of him had no idea how to start that topic, and the other didn't understand the issue. When you had money, as Simon did, as Jayne _wanted_ \--had _always wanted so badly_ \--why worry about some piss poor Rim planets with their willowbark and fever berries. Get blitzed on all the high quality etheron the Core had to offer.

Simon seemed able to interpret at least half of his look. "I wanted to, just to say I had. Overachiever," he explained, as though it needed to be said. "Mostly I was avoiding someone. A, hm, family situation."

"Always is with you."

"You know Kaylee's books about families betraying families, the nobility? Politics, stuff like that?"

"Boring fèihuà."

"No, it's real. But it is boring." Simon seemed to rethink this. "Well, tedious."

"What'd they do? Try to usurp you?"

"I'm not a _prince_ , Jayne." Simon raised a brow. "He tried to propose to River. _Then_ he propositioned me."

Jayne laughed loudly, feeling his side and arm pull. "Mistake," he said, to both himself and Simon’s story.

"Anyway I took a level three trauma course." Simon pulled the cloth away, covered in brown blood and dirt, and pulled his shirt back down. His side was still aching fiercely, from the laughter or having his shirt raised, or leaning against this damned wall.

"You wanna tell me why I can't have the good stuff?"

"I really shouldn't be mixing the sort of _good stuff_ I brought with the anti-clotting agents I gave you." Simon buried his hands in the medkit. "And we only have five doses of it left."

"Four." 

"What?" 

Jayne scrambled to a sit, sucking in a deep breath that only added to the real menace when he spoke this time; his voice deeper, angrier for the hurt. " _Four._ Cause one of those is going into me right gorram now."

Simon turned, taking a breath of his own, through his nose, arms outstretched. " _Stop_ moving around!" 

"Worried about me, Doc?" Jayne smiled tightly.

"I'll put this plainly," Simon was no longer the soothing medic he played with his sister, now the pompous Core boy that never failed to get a rise out of Jayne. Still, at least he was loading a syringe. "I'm not sure what I'm going to do if your sutures break. Maybe your guts will spill across the floor, maybe there's just enough skin and bone to hold them all in. I _do_ know we don't have enough in that small kit behind me to redress it. So I suggest you...," 

He knelt in front of Jayne, thigh brushing against his, and let the syringe and the sentence hang above Jayne like a lifeline. Jayne reached for it desperately.

"Stop moving?"

Simon's lips twitched upward, momentarily, before Jayne felt the pinch at his inner elbow. "Sorry," he said, a moment too late.

"Bug bite." Jayne looked over Simon's shoulder and pretended he was the sort of man who wasn't afraid of needles. He thought about cleaning Vera, new boots, and Kaylee's disastrous attempt at making a cake for Inara's birthday. He didn't cry. “Thanks.”

Simon smoothed the place where the needle had been with a piece of cloth, brow placid, and took another breath. “Tell me, _please_ , if you start to feel numb in your hands or feet.”

Jayne nodded, feeling, for the moment at least, rather obliging.

* * *

Their time on Gallus was counted by hours, not days. Every two hours a radio check, every six hours a shift change to watch the mouth of the cave, every three hours the rain. Jayne had half a mind to call them civil. It wasn't something he noticed on _Serenity_ , but the doc didn't talk as much when there was only him around to show off for. 

As promised, Simon made his way out for medicine and came back with what he found in the bushes, scribbling down long notes next to terrible etches in his beaten journal. Even the notes Jayne gave him. Sometimes _especially_ the notes Jayne gave him.

In the early morning, Jayne felt the relief from the first syringe slip away. It wouldn't take much wheedling for Simon to give him another, and another after that, but four syringes was four syringes, no matter how Jayne counted them, and he'd taken more licks in his life with less medicine in his pouch. He ran his tongue along his teeth, spitting towards the mouth of the cave.

"Familiar?"

Simon shook the fruit in his hand, ovular and a dark purple. Several more littered the ground behind him. They'd gorged themselves on the apples and berries they knew were safe, but this...

"Don't know it," Jayne admitted, leaning forward to hold his cheek against its soft flesh.

“Jayne?”

“Hush.” Jayne instructed him. “Just...hold it there a few minutes since I can’t.”

Above him, Simon let out a frustrated noise, but otherwise complied. 

He turned his head, lips pressing against the purple skin, waiting for any sort of reaction and, after a few minutes, feeling nothing save a faint tingle, not painful like nettles. More numbing than anything else.

This, Jayne reasoned, was a good enough measure, and he sank his teeth into the fruit.

"Jayne!" Simon pulled back his hand, juice dripping between his fingers. He looked down at him, disappointed, then intrigued despite himself. "Well?"

"Tastes like shit," Jayne told him after a few chews. It didn't have much of a taste, in truth, but what little remained was claggy and bitter.

"It's edible?"

"I reckon," Jayne motioned to the remainder of the fruit. "Y'want that one?"

Simon handed him the fruit, lips downturned, shaking the juice from his palm. "Be my guest."

Jayne tugged at the dressing, feeling it pull at his shoulder. If there were ever moments he wondered to himself would he survive in a life of luxury, it was times such as these, languishing with little to do, unable to even push himself up or stretch his arms after an injury. He leaned more heavily against the wall, a thoroughly unintended side effect of the sudden fuzziness going on somewhere between his ears.

"Think this might be a pain reliever...some sort, Doc."

Simon stared at him, eyes narrowed. He lifted the back of his hand to feel Jayne's forehead.

"How are your hands always so cold?"

Simon ignored him. "How do you feel?"

He was always asking that, Jayne thought, mildly irritated. "You're always asking that."

"I'm a doctor," Simon said, flatly.

"Feel fine. Great."

Simon continued to stare for a moment longer before he lowered his hand. "I have to go check the waves. You're _sure_ you feel okay?"

Jayne must have said something reassuring in response, for not a minute later, Simon left the cave, comm device at his hip, small pouch around his shoulder empty and waiting to be filled with whatever various fruit he collected on the journey back.

Jayne stared at the roof of the cave with its glistening black rocks. "We're stuck here," he said to one directly above his head that reminded him of the Preacher for the way it winked down at him. "Don't even have reading for company. Not that it'd be my first choice of preoccupation. Preacher, did I ever tell you about the time I robbed a library on Tamal?"

He carried on talking to Preacher for some time. The man was, as ever, a good listener. He'd probably go on talking were it not for the sound of Simon's voice.

"Jayne?" 

Jayne blinked at Simon, his eyes heavy and dry. He felt... _giddy._ The feeling expanded up from his stomach and out of his throat to a giggle that overtook him. He ordered his mouth to stop but, in the face of Simon's slow-forming smile, it only disobeyed him more.

"Tā mā de...you're _high_."

Jayne reckoned his _giggle_ \--for there was no denying that's what it was--lasted a full minute before Simon even attempted to calm him, afraid he might harm himself in some way. 

“Waves?” he managed, cheeks aching from his outburst.

Simon shook his head. “Your side should be well enough to walk in a few days. We can go farther into the ravine then.” He dumped the satchel he’d brought back with him, sorting what he knew from the unfamiliar. “Who were you talking to?”

Jayne thought to tell him to mind his own business, but the fruit made his tongue loose, so he answered almost at once with the truth. “Preacher.”

Simon half-turned, surprised. “...what'd he say?”

Jayne heard his head hit the cave wall with a thunk more than he felt it. He was looking at the roof again. “He’s dead, Simon. Dead men don’t talk much, so’s I’m aware.”

Simon stood above him in the space of a moment, his expression shuttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he blinked away. “Here, you've messed up your sling again.”

Simon fussed with his arm, cold hands running along his forearms, clean nails collecting dirt. Soft, loose strands of his hair falling in front of his eyes. Pink cheeks, soft lips; he’d never belonged with them, Jayne thought. 

Except, he thought, _except_ …

Where alcohol dulled his brain, whatever this was seemed to make him hyperfocus. Simon’s nails were clean--the man had to wash his hands, Jayne reasoned--but his cuticles were frayed and there were lines, _cracks_ and fissures and little pockmarks he could see this close. His lips were chapped and his hair was thinning above the ear. He reached out, wrapping two digits around the bangs that had fallen in Simon’s face and rubbing the pads of his thumb and forefinger together.

 _As dry as mine,_ Jayne wanted to laugh. Well, what did he expect?

Simon stared up at him, seemingly determined to remain unfazed.

“I can’t see,” he said, “when you do that.” 

Jayne obliged, pulling away and watching the hair spring back into place. “That boy in school.”

“Edward.”

“Whatever. You take him up on it?”

“...no,” Simon replied slowly.

Jayne found this hilarious and said as much, with a laugh. “You could have at least done that before you shook him off.”

“I felt like I didn't have the time for any of that, I think.” Simon straightened the knot at Jayne’s elbow, brow furrowed fiercely. “Why am I telling you this?”

He stared at his hand. 

“Shit.”

"Tā mā de,” Jayne mocked in Simon's prissy affectation. “You're high.”

Simon sank slowly, falling to his knees then splaying further onto his back.

Jayne kicked the inside of his thigh, pointing to his splint. “Hey, oh no! Make yourself useful and finish this.”

“It's not recommended,” Simon said, dragging himself up anyway, “to treat a patient while under the influence.”

“You were doing fine enough before.”

Simon muttered under his breath as he continued working. "Purple fruit. Hallucinogen absorbed through the skin...stronger when ingested."

They were notes, Jayne knew, for the journal, but his focus was directed pointedly at Simon's crotch which was now at eye level.

“Ingested,” Jayne repeated with a thick swallow.

Thing about Jayne and head was, for as much as he loved being on the receiving end, giving it was something altogether more invigorating. Pretty lady pushing her cunt back against his tongue, bitching something fierce about his beard but unable to stop herself. Dressed up man burying himself shaft deep, grabbing at his short hairs and angling himself just right. Jayne hummed.

"Don't," Simon interrupted himself, still making his oral notations, to stare at Jayne reproachfully. 

"Don't what? Just got my eyes facing forward like a good patient."

"We agreed last time was a _mistake_."

"Well, I make a lot of those." He leaned forward slightly. It almost seemed like an accident. "You’re always saying so."

The single time he'd taken River and Simon out to get drunk was for the same reason he found himself leaning forward now: boredom and dirt. The siblings could be insufferable at the best of times but throw on a heaping pile of fuck-all to do and the crew had a one-two punch powder keg. He had to get them both off _Serenity_ or neither of them, that was the deal he'd made with Mal.

He _thought_ the benefits of getting two Core kids hammered on cheap whiskey was that they didn’t know there was good stuff to be had on the Rim and two drinks would do them both.

What he _got_ was a Reader who was selfish with her bottle but generous with her gift, helping him cheat at cards when she got to the bottom of her fourth glass. And Simon, who was handsy and far, _far_ too honest about Jayne’s biceps. 

And maybe Jayne had gotten a little honest himself after he stole the moonbrain’s fifth bottle. Whatever he’d said between drinks five and seven had been enough to push Simon into chasing him outside, away from River’s all-knowing gaze.

“You’re obnoxious. An idiot.” Simon somehow managed flatly, between the space of the bar door and his back pressed against the wall of the alley, every muscle taut and seeming to scream, _Run away, go, go._

Jayne cased the alley, thumbing his nose before he took a knee. “You only _think_ you’re clever, bèn dàn.”

He must have done something favorable after that. The next morning, he awoke with a sleepy Tam to an arm a piece and the sharpest hangover since his days on Caliban.

“I'm surprised you remember that night," Jayne tsked at the bottom of his chin. Simon’s Adam’s apple bobbed at the ghost of Jayne’s breath across it. "You were awfully drunk.”

"I remember,” Simon drew the word out. "You telling me I was cheaper and more convenient than finding a whore."

“Hm," he pulled Simon forward using the knowledge that Simon wouldn't risk hurting him, above whatever discomfort he was feeling. "That doesn't sound like something a gentleman like me would say."

Simon snorted and then, right then Jayne knew this was going to happen whether his better judgment wanted it to or not. He'd been through enough delicate relationship delegations built only on bad decisions to recognize the bend before the break.

“River was drunk,” Simon said, but his tone was half-hearted, at best. “I was--” 

“You were _drunk_.”

“So were you,” Simon stared down at him, lips pursed. “It was…,” he chuckled, pressing Jayne’s good shoulder. “Awful.”

"Well,” Jayne leaned back carefully. “If you don't wanna."

Simon straightened in his lap, bit his lip. "Jayne, you're hurt, you idiot."

"Mouth works fine. Promise."

Simon cursed under his breath.

“This is a mistake.”

“I know. Now shut up so I can enjoy it.”

Simon wasn't paying attention to him anymore, staring up at the roof of the cave with the ghost of a smile on his face. "What's Preacher going to think?"

Jayne swiped his thumb across the inside of Simon's hipbone, drawing his attention back to him once more. Wouldn't do him any good to have him thinking of the Preacher while he went to work. Or hell, maybe it would, what did Jayne care if that's what got the doctor’s engine running. If he had to place bets, though...Doctor Tam, sitting in his bunk on the most sexually frustrating ship to cruise the Black, like as not wasn’t Preacher he was thinking of. 

"Why are you still talking?"

"Why are you?" Simon answered, immediate, face tilted down and mouth set in challenge.

It was all the invitation Jayne needed, pulling Simon's zipper down and pressing a palm against the outline of his cock. And there was the thing about having only one good hand, Jayne realized, belatedly; _everything_ was going to be a struggle. Not that he was going to let Simon know that.

Simon's dick fell into his hand, pink and half-hard. Jayne rubbed his nose along the thickest vein, startling a surprised noise out of Simon. Jayne didn’t fight the low chuckle that escaped him, mouthing along the fleshy tip with his bottom lip and burying his nose in the hair at the base of Simon’s shaft. 

Jayne breathed deeply, having smelled worse--knowing _he'd_ smelled worse his own self--and felt the edges of his teeth catch his lip in a feral grin. 

Simon’s hands carded through Jayne’s hair, slightly encouraging. Jayne ran his calloused thumb across his tip, catching a drop of precum and pulling away to angle his wrist and stroke, Simon’s dick lengthening with each pump.

Simon panted, staggering to the side and Jayne turned with him, hand twisting as he chased the tip of Simon's dick with his tongue. Even through the cloud of drugs he felt his ribs burn. A sudden fear shot through him. Was he bleeding? Had he finally pushed past his limits, as Simon had been warning over and _over_? It was just a little hand-and-mouth action, for fuck's sake! His paranoid thoughts spiraled inward, hand slowing then stopping as he pulled away.

"Jayne?"

To his credit, Simon seemed to understand what was happening almost immediately, tucking himself back into his pants, a mask of steady composure falling over his reddened cheeks as he turned away from Jayne.

Jayne squeezed his eyes shut, opening them again when Simon tugged lightly at his forearm.

“Three,” he said, half-a-second before Jayne felt a pinch on the inside of his elbow.

“Wha--” Jayne winced, pointedly looking away from his arm.

“ _Three_ ,” Simon repeated, more firmly. “Three shots left. I have no idea how this is going to mix with whatever that fruit was so--”

“I’ll let you know,” Jayne swallowed, his tongue feeling heavy, the painkiller working its way quickly through his system.

Simon nodded, laying the syringe aside to place both hands against Jayne’s side where his bandage lay under the sling. He didn’t press hard, but it made a solid point, nonetheless. _Stay_ , it said. _Be still._

“Won’t move no more, Doc,” Jayne reassured him. “Don’t think I could if I tried.”

Simon opened his mouth--presumably to argue, for all the good it would do him with Jayne’s thoughts as foggy as they were--and swiftly closed it again.

“Not a mistake,” Jayne touched the back of his closest wrist, and Simon removed his hands from Jayne’s side as though burned, fists clenched in front of his body and “Just a bit of fun, s’all. Need to relax.”

Simon did seem to unspool as Jayne became one with the wall, leaning back on his haunches, and settling on his (very pert) ass on the dirt in front of Jayne. “I’ll relax when you’re well. Which, I think, might include not actively trying to chase my cock before seeing to your own recovery.”

Something about Simon saying the word _cock_ gave Jayne’s own nethers a noticeable rise. “Not going to happen.” Jayne chuckled. “It’s a nice cock.”

Simon’s entire face bunched to the center like he’d bitten into something sour. “Thank you?”

Jayne smiled. To himself, mostly, but he hoped Simon saw it for some reason.

Whatever was in that fruit, it was _potent_. 

"Go to sleep, Jayne," Simon’s voice said from far away, and placed a hand against his side again.


End file.
